


monsters and heroes

by Blownwish



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Dominant Tom Hiddleston, Hiddlesworth, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Tom bottoms from the top, power bottom Tom Hiddleston, some Thorki elements, submissive Chris Hemsworth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Tom tries to resist the urge to control Chris. It's wrong, so wrong, until it's right.[Hiddlesworth with a hint of Thorki]
Relationships: Chris Hemsworth/Tom Hiddleston
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	monsters and heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm still rusty, but I hope I make up for it with enthusiasm. Oh my god, I can not stop thinking about this pairing. 
> 
> Anyway, this takes place during the making of the first Thor and it is pure trash.

Chris is big and warm and he is everywhere. So much to touch, and so sensitive, Tom sculpts his hairless chest and laps at his tongue as Chris shivers for him. It’s the fact that he’s had his hair dyed black and Tom can’t shake the native arrogance it stirs within. It’s the fact that Chris is here, finally here, and he’s been hungry for Chris for what feels like an eternity. _Keep going,_ and _yeah, yeah, yeah_. He's going to touch. He's going to taste. He's going to do more. There is no point in fighting this attraction. Tom is not that strong, not by a long shot.

"Let me suck it." Chris' voice breaks. He pants and he blushes and he bites his lip. He twists his wrists as if he needs permission. Oh. 

_Oh, how delicious._

Tom pushes away. Buckles, buttons, his fly -- they fall away and Tom holds himself, strokes himself as Chris' eyes get big. "Sure?" Tom asks. He's not sure at all.

Then Chris whines. It's too much, it's not enough and Christ, it makes him ache. "Come on then." He cups the back of Chris' head with a smile. "Suck it for me." 

Is he losing his mind or did Chris say thank you? Oh! Fuck, oh! He's choking him down, moaning and bobbing and _Jesus Christ_. Tom threads his fingers in that silky blonde hair and tries, tries, tries not to explode as he thrusts. "This what you needed?" 

"Mmm!" The deepest blue eyes in the world are looking up at him, teary, needy, hungry for acceptance. 

But he can't give it to him. Not the kind or acceptance Chris is looking for because Tom is a monster. He wants to control Chris, own Chris. If he ever said it out loud he would sound like some arrogant, upper class posh bastard. That should be enough to snap Tom out of it, but tonight his constraint failed. He is all over Chris like, and now he's going to -- he's about to -- 

No.

He can't. Not when it will make him sick if he lets Chris do this, this elaborate _thank you_ for services rendered. "Stop." The word comes from Tom but he's still shocked when Chris pulls away, head hanging as he stands back up. Tom pulls his pants back up as Chris turns away and rubs his face. “I didn’t mean to -- it was, I -- “

"No, my bad." Chris tries to laugh but it's not funny. He smiles and the light glistens from his spit-wet stubble. "Got me a little carried away, mate."

Fuck. Tom could push him with his little finger and Chris would fall back to his knees as if he belonged to Tom. He'd let Tom fuck his perfect face, and more, and Tom will feel as if he owned him, heart and soul in that moment. "No, it was me. I… I…" _want to own you. Run._

He pats Tom's cheek. "S'ok." The smile is too wide. The movements are too jerky as Chris dresses and opens the door. He stops. "We cool?"

"Yeah." Tom smiles back and it feels like it's going to break his face. "So cool. See you tomorrow." Tom knows it's anything but cool when Chris slams the trailer door shut. 

This is only the fourth time they had met face to face. Dear god, Tom is losing his mind. 

++

Ken was the kind of man Tom wanted to adopt as his father. Warm, funny and nurturing, Ken was everything Dad wasn't. "You'll do well as Loki, Tommy. I promise you."

The beer and the pub is a bit loud and the Guinness, chilled for American tourists. Tom watches the condensation on his pint bead. "You have someone in mind for Thor?" He wasn't sore over losing the lead but he wanted to know who won it. 

"There was this one guy who came close. The one who played Kirk's father in that Trek reboot."

 _Him?_ That face, that voice, that incredible presence! Tom could recall those few minutes with incredible clarity when the rest of the film was a blur. He had heard of people having charisma but scratched it up to myth until he saw that man fill the screen and his mind. What a revelation. "But what was wrong?"

"He just didn't understand what the roll required. One might say he wasn't worthy?" Ken liked being clever. 

Too clever, sometimes. And in that regard he was so much like Tom's father. "So if he tries again, like a second act, perhaps he will have redeemed himself?" 

"Ah. His brother did better." 

His brother? This was too on the nose. "Sounds like your man already knows all about sibling rivalry?" He needed a proper meal. "I dunno. Maybe I'm talking shit."

"No, no. I'll keep him in mind if he turns back up." Ken stretched his arms to the low ceiling and yawned. "Are you done pretending you're starving to death so I can take you back to the house for dinner? Lindsay has Bolognese."

God bless Kenneth Branagh. 

++

Chris was standing away from his laptop, shirtless, holding up a hammer he'd picked up from a home repair shop. Yes, this was part of their process, as they worked out their characters long distance over Skype. Although they had only met once, in real life, d been working like this every day for months. "You sure this looks right?" Hero shots were everything and Chris had to nail it. Too bad Tom was thinking more about nailing _him_.

"It's perfect." 

God, he was shameful. Chris needed his focus, not eye fucking, but these Skype calls were testing his limits. He thought of Mum, cold showers, and knees to the groin. But they were all powerless against Chris and his beautiful body. They always were. 

Chris bounded back to the laptop and that electric smile took over the screen. "Thor would totally do the pose in his undies, right in Loki's face to rub it in." The image nearly choked Tom. 

"How brotherly." He chugged down his espresso to hide the heat on his face and made a show of looking through his notes. "I suppose that's part for the course with male siblings?" There, he placed it in a safe, platonic space. 

If this was anyone else Tom would flirt back. Anyone else didn't have a coy laugh and lingering eyes that looked at Tom like he had all the answers. God, what was so heady about that? "How do you think Loki'd feel about that?"

"Easy." Loki was as close to Tom as his next breath and he knew exactly how Loki would feel. "He'd demand Thor get on his knees, instead." 

The smile fades. "Gonna ask you a question. Don't get mad, 'kay? But I gotta make a confession." The screen shakes a little. "No worries mate. I'm not about to confess my love or anything."

"Damn. And to think I bought a ring…" Tom laughed at the world's dumbest joke. 

"You're a posh English guy from Eton and Cambridge and RADA and all that Shakespeare. I'm this Aussie meathead with a little college. I took the roll you tried out for. That’s a lot like the script, isn’t it? Do you, I dunno how to say it, resent me?" 

Tom never envied him the roll. "Resent? No, I'm happy with my roll. And I think Loki, deep down, wants to be acknowledged as Thor's equal." Even if it was against Loki's nature to reciprocate. 

"Nah. Loki would want Thor on his knees for a good grovel."

No, he didn't need more mental pictures like that. But all Tom saw was Thor on his knees as Loki pulled his head forward… He cleared his throat. "Yeah, ah --"

"Didn't mean to make it sound like you're some kind of snob. Like him." Oh, he could be. Chris had no idea. Sometimes the Eton and Cambridge bubbled up inside of him. Maternal ancestors raged on his head. He was delusional, like his mother, full of self important airs.. Rule Britannia. _God, how insane_.

Rubbing his face didn't change Tom's frown. "Look, if you want to use the class distinction thing I'm not offended. It's insightful," not too on the nose. "But for the record I never thought you were a meathead. Not even once."

"Really?" Chris tilted his head. "What'd you first think of me when we met?" 

" _Jesus Christ! That guy really is Thor!_ That's what I thought. _This guy knows how to work for it._ " It was only true but Chris beamed like some throw away praise made all that work worth it. Stupid! Arrogant! Chris didn't break body and soul down to impress Tom! That was what professionals did. "Everyone feels that way about you, Chris. Cross my heart."

"Makes me feel like, I dunno know, a manual laborer." There it was, the class distinction again. "I guess I look the part."

"More than look, Chris. You're proving you're worthy as Thor and as an actor. You know this character because you're living his hero's journey, right now."

The tears were horrifying and Tom had to look away. But Chris was not ashamed. "God, mate. What would I do without you helping me with this?"

Tom had no idea. "Probably on Skype with Eddie Redmayne, instead." Bloody fucking Eddie. 

"Hell, no!" Chris rubbed his nose with the bank of his hand and looked away. "I love you, man. You're like… like a brother. I dunno. More than a brother. Shit, I can't believe we just met and I feel this way. You know?"

Tom huffed. "My brother from another mother." If one brother masturbated over the other, sure. God, how was he going to work with this man when they were occupying the same space? "Love you too, man." He could. Jesus Christ, Tom could love him, and what would become of Chris, then? God help them both. 

"I'm coming up to London next week. Let's get together and get some more work done." 

Tom felt his heart flutter as he did the most Eton schoolboy thing imaginable in the face of danger: "Let's do it."

++

He's tried texting Chris countless times. There are so many things he wants to tell him, to apologize for. Sorry for taking advantage. Sorry for falling on him like an animal and backing him up against the wall. His nature, his greedy, controlling nature came out with Chris' response. 

That perfect _submissive_ response. 

And of course he couldn't manage much beyond, _sorry about all that._ All that? Tom closed his eyes as the makeup artist finished patting on the face paint. All that entitled, English public school boy hunger for power. He wishes he wasn't that person and one day he won't be. But as he gazes at Loki, staring back in the mirror, he knows that will be a long time coming. 

_Why an actor, boy? Why not be your own man?_ He can still remember his father glaring over a five star table. It would have been possible if Dad married a sensible Scottish lass. Dad married his aristocratic mother, and regretted it for the rest of his divorced life. _All that money on school so you can prance about pretending you're someone else. Like mother, like son, I suppose._

Loki nods back at him because he would know all about being a man with Daddy issues. He puts his headphones on. It's time for music, for work, for focus. He strides toward the sound stage like the Crown Prince, Himself. No, he stops before he opens the door. Loki is not another prince. He is also a god. There, that's it. He tosses his back the black hair and grins as he goes inside. 

And then he sees the God of Thunder standing in an enormous golden throne room, looking back at him in full regalia. Nothing seems out of place except the smile. It's nothing, the slightest tremble of his lips, but it's disastrous. "There's my brother!" 

Tom puts a smile on his face. He puts one foot in front of the other until he's face to face. Oh, what a face. So handsome, so brave. So pained. Fuck. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah. No problem." He isn't going to trust him with the truth and Tom doesn't blame Chris one bit. He should, as a general rule, avoid monsters like Tom and follow his own path. 

Good. Tom nods and smiles back. "Right. Time to work."

++

Tom was under Ken's watchful eye each time he had met Chris face to face. Once, at Ken's London house. Then, at the LA Marvel Studio offices for a read through. The third time, daddy was absent.

Tom opened his front door and Chris, wrapped in a black trench coat and rubber boots, swept into his lair. They hugged. It was bliss. Chris smelled like woodspice and sex. Tom let his hand linger on his arms too long. Yet, Chris didn't seem to mind. Tom imagined being a lord, sizing up a big, strapping soldier and his cock twitched. 

The jacket came off and the light gleamed off this man like he was golden. Chris beamed. "You look good, mate. Real good." 

Tom had only spent weeks lifting extra weights for this moment. Oh, he told himself it was for the roll, even though Loki didn't need to be menacing. But he knew the truth: he wanted to impress Chris. "Ready to do some acting, Hemsworth?" 

A few ill advised Grey Goose and tonnies later (welcome to London!) they were knee deep in their lines. Tom used every trick in the book to ignore the raging erection Chris inspired. They sat shoulder to thigh with him on the love seat. It was training, Tom decided, for the long weeks he would spend fighting this monstrous ache. Then it happened, the absolute worst thing in the world. As they went through the final fight scene, Chris leapt on him. 

"I dunno how else to do this!"

They rolled on the floor. Scripts dashed to the floor as they knocked over Tom's coffee table. Chris should have overpowered Tom, but there was something soft in every push and roll. There was something yielding in Chris. There was something surging in Tom as if he had overwhelming strength. He had Chris blushing, flat on his back, trapped between his legs. "What would Loki think about this?" Chris asked in a breathy whisper. 

Danger!

"He'd love this." It was a whisper, too. "What about Thor?" 

"He'd love it, too." Chris reached up. Tom leaned in, turning toward his palm, and away from all reason for one sweet moment -- 

The cell rang and the screen was serious business: his manager's capped tooth face. For this unintended rescue, Tom would send flowers and songs of praise. He jumped up. "I've got to take this. Sorry."

++

There are many things Tom can overlook. He doesn't mind a mess. Swearing and frustration is understandable. But he will not abide Chris throwing this all away. He's worked too hard and too long to let Tom bring him down. He can't live with that and he cannot go through another day like today, again. Chris was awful. He forgot lines, looked into the camera, and knocked props over. Also, he tripped over his own cape so many times Ken stopped everything to have it taken up. By the end of the day everyone hates Chris. 

They don’t deserve him, Tom decided. These ignorant, _common_ bastards don’t recognize the nobility of a hero on his quest. And for them to dismiss him when he falls? Don't they know? Heros have to fall to redeem themselves. And Chris fell because of him, because he can’t get back up without help. It's heartbreaking. It's wrong. It's Tom's fault.

He finds himself in full costume running after Chris once Ken wraps with a look that could freeze hell. Damn the rules, for this once. Jesus Christ,, it's not like they ever apply to Tom. Not those rules. Only one rule, if he's honest. 

He better start being honest. 

"Chris!" He's a red caped blur in a sea of extras and crew and Tom has to run and push and apologize. He has to grab Chris by the shoulders near a dark corner, causing Chris to swing around in what must be shock. Thank goodness for handy closets. They're ideal for falling into.

His ass met a porcelain sink. Directly. Glorious. "Shit!"

"Tom?" He blots out the light as he steps into a space with less room than an airplane toilet. Tom groans as Chris crowds him. "You okay?"

"Remember when I asked you the same thing?" Tom leans against the sink. "But you lied. You're not okay."

He's quiet, and his pain is as obvious as it is heartbreaking when he turns to leave. Like hell he’s leaving. He’s not going anywhere. Not yet. Tom takes his wrist between his thumb and forefinger. He's not the least bit surprised when this is enough to stop him. "What do you want me to say?” Chris asks. “You made me fall in love with this roll and these crazy dreams. Turns out I have a limit, and you’re it. Maybe I can still get into male modeling or work in soaps. It's not like I'm going back to washing breast pumps at the chemists'..."

"Shh." Tom nudges and Chris turns to face him. So obedient, even when he’s guarded. Jesus, he didn't deserve Chris but Chris needed him. Tom took a deep breath and put command in his voice. "Never speak about yourself like that again. Your Christopher Hemsworth. You're on a journey, your hero’s journey. Remember?" Chris takes a shuddering breath. Tom'sesponse is instant: he closes the door and backs Chris up against it. "I didn’t want to do this to you, but the alternative is unacceptable. You know I’m going to have sex with you. But you need to know, I’m not just going to sleep with you, Christopher. I’m going to control you, in bed and out. I am going to be whatever you need me to be and you will not always like it. I promise you that. Please forgive me."

Chris hasn't given him the least bit of resistance and Tom knows he wants this like he wants his next breath. "For fucks' sake! I’ve been waiting so long for you to do it!" It still sets off bombs. 

"I'm not fucking you in a broom closet." 

"Seriously? You're going to make me wait longer?"

"Get changed and I'll take you somewhere nice."

One agonizing hour, Tom drives him in a rented Honda Civic to the most expensive hotel he can book on short notice. People watch Chris stroll into the lobby in his easy access jeans and pullover. Let them, Tom decide. It is all this greedy monster will allow, because Chris is now his. These people, this world, they will never touch him again. Not like they did today. No one will hurt him, again.

He waits for Chris to enter the elevator and the room door first. He sits on the banal stuffed chair like a throne and puts one hand up when Chris sits on the bed. "No, not yet." He pats his thigh. "Come here."

Chris, falls on his knees. And then -- Jesus Christ, he is perfect -- Chris crawls on his hands and knees toward him. He rubs his cheek against Tom's thigh. "Sweet, aren't you? So sweet and eager to please." 

Chris nods.

"You want to suck me like you did last night, Thor?" It slips out and Chris looks up with a fire in his eyes. "Oh, brother. I think we found something to work with. Don't you agree?"

"Is that what it takes to make you stop with these terrible schemes, brother?" What will slack the hunger? The need in his belly? Only one thing will ever do. Chris shivers as Tom touches his lips. 

The smile is pure Loki when Tom leans back. "I'm not asking permission, Thor. I'm taking what's mine. Now open up and get to work." 

Except the work is all Tom's. He has to lift his hips to let him pull down his pants. He has to guide his head between his legs. He has to conjugate Latin in his head to keep himself from succumbing to the hungry, sloppy blow job. God, it is good. He is good. And when he looks back up at Tom with those deep blue eyes, those trusting eyes, Tom remembers-- no, he's not good. He's perfect. 

"Loki would love this," Tom whispers as Chris laps at his balls. "He'd love Thor for this but he'd never say."

Chris rubs his face in Tom's balls. "Thor knows. He knows much more than Loki thinks. He would do anything for Loki, you know that."

It's too much. He pulls Chris up and feeds on his mouth, on the taste of himself marking Chris. "Mine." His voice is as deep as the night and his reach will span the planet when they leave New Mexico. Chris will remember this and him and never forget who he is: Tom's. "You're going to do everything I tell you."

He tells him to strip and get in the bed. And he does, tripping over himself as he yanks off the sneakers. When he's finally naked and laying on the bed like a feast Tom points at the offending socks he forgot. "Sorry," says Chris.  
"Don't say sorry. I'll take care of it." He kisses each instep as they're revealed. He works his way up, savoring his calve, the back of his knee, the curve of his thighs. 

"Who are you right now?" Chris asks as Tom sits up and frames his face. "Loki? Tom?" His eyes sparkle for Tom. Only for Tom. 

"Whoever you need me to be." Tom breathes it into his moaning mouth, before he takes him. He is the monster, the needy beast who needs total control, as his hands slide and prime, pump and push. He spits, watching Chris' face twist as he reaches down to push his finger deep and fast and hard inside of him. "Your friend, your brother, Loki, Tom, your lover, your keeper."

He angles his finger and jabs until Chris gasps in greedy little gulps. He reaches out and Tom is there, letting Chris slide his hands up and down his arms. "Please mean it. You're not just saying this because of the film --"

"Because of you. Shh!" Tom gets up. "You need more." He pulls the lube out of his pocket and pours it into his hands. "You need to understand. You don't get it. But you will." He slathes him down and primes him, watching Chris' face as he shivers under every stroke. "That's it. God, you look so good when you're gagging for it. You know that? I could eat you alive."

And with that Tom pushes him inside. He sucks at his teeth then grits against the pain and resistance until he's got every inch of Chris. "Mine!" He snarls as he bends his head and takes Chris' mouth one more time. "All mine!" Chris' nails bite, his voice cracks as Tom reaches around, ramming two fingers deep inside of Chris. "Come on you beautiful thing. Come apart for me." And he does. He comes deep inside of Tom, screaming Tom’s name as he gives Tom a little bit of himself, a piece he will never get back. Then Tom loses a little bit of himself next as he screams one name: Christopher. 

There is a promise made, afterward, never to use his full name around others. "I don't want anyone else calling me that," Christopher whispers in the dark. "Only you." 

++

Tom would never forget first meeting Chris Hemsworth.

"Chris." Tom shook hands with the handsome man at Ken and Lindsay's follier. Jesus Christ! -- he was enormous! Like a shit brick house! "Good god. You really look the part, don't you?" He seemed to take up all the space in Ken’s house and Tom’s mind. And then -- 

It was odd to see such a big, powerful man blush. It was the sort of thing Tom would have expected from a school boy. He patted his shoulder and, fear god, his tricep. His body. 

Him.

Ken cleared his throat. "I'll go over some things with Natalie while you're getting to know each other." Tom did not register the pat on his back as he stared up into the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen. But he did hear Ken whisper as he passed. "You wanted him. He's your responsibility."

Tom nodded as he smiled back at Chris. "Right. How do you feel about yoga?"

"Whatever, mate. I'm easy."


End file.
